Strings
by McAbbyAddict
Summary: McGee comes downstairs to see Abby after yet another breakup... but somehow, things seem different this time. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: This occurred to me randomly at work last week. It's a smidge OOC, but I wrote it anyway. Hope you like it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing NCIS, unless you count 7 seasons of DVDs.**

Abby shut the last computer down for the night and turned to flick her stereo off. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted McGee in the outer lab, apparently waiting for her. Smiling- it had been a while since he'd come down to see her- she went out to greet him. "Hey McGee."

"Hey Abs." His answering smile didn't quite reach his eyes. She faltered a little; she knew that look, she'd seen it too often for her liking. 'Not again' she thought to herself. Keeping her voice level, she asked "Tim? Are you ok?"

He half shrugged, a pensive expression on his face. "Becky broke up with me" he admitted. Wordlessly, she put her arms around him and hugged him tight for a moment, getting a small smile in return while she seethed mentally. Tim was a great guy; why could none of these women he dated see that?

She let him go and grabbed his arm instead. "Come on, Tim; I'll buy you a drink."

...

They went to a quiet place that she knew he'd like- more his kind of place than hers- and sat at a table, both nursing one drink; tomorrow was a work day, after all. By unspoken mutual agreement, they talked about work, Jethro, her bowling league- anything but his now ex-girlfriend. Finally as it got late, he stood and told her he'd see her home.

It was their own small ritual. He'd follow her home and walk her upstairs before saying goodnight and going back to his car. Tonight though, there was something different. Tonight he leant with his back to the wall next to her front door, watching as she fumbled with her house keys. Not saying anything; just watching. Long experience with Timothy McGee told her that he was leading up to something. Just as she got the key into the lock, he finally spoke.

"It's my fault."

She expected the words- McGee had almost zero self confidence when it came to members of the opposite sex- but the tone wasn't what she anticipated at all. It wasn't that note that came close to self loathing that she'd heard before- it was something else.

"I drive them away. No one wants to be with someone who's dreaming of somebody else." Startled- who was McGee dreaming of that she didn't know about? - She turned her head and looked at him.

There was a hunger in his expressive eyes that she'd never seen before, making her breath catch in her throat. She felt her heart skip a beat, and then start racing. Suddenly it occurred to her that her best friend was one very attractive man. Why hadn't she noticed that before?

In a low, husky voice he continued "I never got over you, you know. Not really. And I'm tired of hiding it, Abs."

Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips, fighting for composure even though her heart was pounding so hard she could hear her own pulse. "It's the alcohol talking, Tim."

He laughed, still on that low husky note that sent a thrill down her spine. "I've had one beer, Abby." He straightened up and stopped leaning on the wall, taking half a step closer to her. "But if that's what you want to believe..."

He was giving her an out. She knew she should take it- he was her best friend after all, and they didn't do things like this anymore, hadn't for years-but somehow she couldn't force herself to say the words. He lifted his hand to cup her face, lightly caressing her cheek with his thumb, murmuring her name. Unable to stand the tension any more, she leant forward and pressed her lips to his... and immediately realised she was in big trouble. A shaft of desire, stronger than she'd ever felt before, shot through her, leaving her weak at the knees. He supported her as he twisted the key she'd abandoned in the lock, opening the door and guiding her inside.


	2. Chapter 2

McGee awoke.

The pillow under his head wasn't his. Disoriented, he looked around, searching for a clue to where he was. Slowly the faintly familiar surroundings became recognisable. He was in Abby's coffin. He turned his head carefully, not wanting to disturb her. She barely slept; she needed all she could get when she did. He was definitely in her coffin; she slept on, looking calm and peaceful.

He let go of the breath he didn't know he was holding. This was new. While he'd spent more than a few nights in Abby's coffin, it had always been at her instigation. Every time. Until now.

He hadn't intended on seducing his best friend. And there was no denying it; she may have kissed him first, but he'd most definitely made the first move. He wasn't even sure how they'd got to that point. They'd gone out for a drink after Becky had broken up with him, as was their all too familiar habit. As always when they'd done something together outside of work, he'd walked her upstairs, to make sure she got home safely. Up until that point, everything had been...normal.

He'd come to realise over the last few months that maybe the reason he couldn't seem to find a girlfriend was, in fact, his fault. He'd fallen hard for the brilliant Goth scientist; when their romantic relationship had fizzled out, he'd jumped at the chance to remain friends with Abby. There was something about her that he'd never quite been able to shake. And since then, every relationship he'd had seemed somehow lacking.

The one thing he'd never really intended on doing was letting Abby know that, however. But last night, something had...changed. He couldn't pinpoint what it was, or why. All he knew was that suddenly he couldn't stand to go one more night without telling her that he still cared.

So where did they go from here? Would this become a habit? Did he want this to become a habit? And when it came down to it, what was this? Just sex on a whim because he still carried a torch for his best friend?

His train of thought was interrupted by a faint but persistent buzzing noise. It took him a moment to realise what it was. His cell phone. He leaned over the side of the coffin, reaching into the pocket of his discarded pants. Gibbs. That could only mean one thing. He unlocked the phone.

"McGee."

"McGee. We got a dead Marine colonel in Georgetown. Need you down here straight away."

"Right Boss." He listened for a moment, getting the address before Gibbs hung up in his typical manner. He lay still for a further moment before sighing and sitting up. Abby's phone would be ringing any moment. He searched around on the floor for it, gently shaking her awake and handing it to her. It started to ring as he put it in her hand. "We've got a case" he mouthed as she went to answer the call.

While she was on the phone, he gathered up his clothes and started to pull them on hurriedly. With an early morning summons like this, there was no way he had time to go home and change, which meant he'd have to deal with Tony and Ziva's snide comments. _Well_, he corrected mentally, _mostly Tony's._

He was tucking his shirt into his trousers when Abby got off the phone. They looked at each other for a moment. "Abs..." he began, not knowing what to say. Lost for words, he shook his head. "I'll see you at work."

...

Frustrated, he threw down the pen he'd been playing with idly. Their dead Marine colonel from that morning had been a little hinky; while he was certainly wearing the insignia of a full colonel, AFIS showed that the highest rank he was entitled to was that of corporal. They'd been kept busy trying to figure out why a corporal had been impersonating a colonel, and how he'd managed it in the first place- neither of which they'd managed to answer yet. Which meant that McGee hadn't had a chance to go down to the lab and talk to Abby.

Things between them had been left at an awkward point that morning. He just had not known what to say. He didn't honestly know what he wanted right now. While he still had feelings for Abby, she'd hurt him badly when she'd broken things off before; he wasn't sure if he wanted to go through that again. Abby didn't do permanent.

Noticing for the first time that the bullpen was dark and everyone else had gone, he stood and picked up his backpack. Hopefully she was still in the lab.

...

Her domain was brightly lit but quite when he entered. A little confused, he called her name.

"Abby?"

She came out of one of the back regions of her lab, looking a little ill at ease when she saw him.

"We need to talk about last night" they said in unison. Grinning a little, he waved for her to continue. "You go first" he told her.

"Last night was great, McGee. Really, really great." He tensed, waiting for the inevitable. "But... it was a mistake." She started pacing in front of him; he let her go, knowing that it helped her when she was agitated. "I think we both know that. I mean, you just broke up with Becky, and you're my best friend, McGee! Best friends don't- don't just sleep together at random." She stopped in front of him, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "So- so maybe this should just stay the one night. Just one night, with no strings."

Unable to resist the entreaty in her big green eyes, he heard himself agreeing to what she said, feeling a dull ache start in his chest as he did so.

Her reasoning had been reasonable, sensible even. It was only once he'd walked out of her lab that he figured out why his chest ached.

He wanted the strings.


	3. Chapter 3

After McGee left, Abby sat down heavily on one of the stools. He'd agreed to her suggestion about last night's...encounter. Which is what she wanted. McGee was a great guy; she knew that. And she'd realised last night exactly how attractive he was- somehow she'd managed to overlook that for years. But all of that... it wasn't the point. He was her best friend. And she wasn't looking for a relationship. She was happy with her life. She was happy with the casual, noncommittal things she had with guys.

So why did she feel so unaccountably depressed?

...

McGee grimaced as he swirled the remains of the scotch around in the glass and took a sip. Drinking really wasn't his thing, and the taste of the spirit was unfamiliar.

It had been three weeks since he and Abby had spent the night together. Since then, he'd been unable to get her off his mind. He'd done his best to letting her distract him at work, but once they'd left for the night... Tonight the thoughts and images that refused to leave him alone had gotten worse. Hence why he was sitting in a bar in the middle of the night, drinking scotch that he didn't even particularly like.

He hadn't reacted like this when they'd broken up years ago, when he'd first joined Gibbs' team. He'd tried to come up with an answer, any answer, and he just kept coming back to the same conclusion. He was in love with Abby. And she'd made it perfectly clear that she was not interested. To be honest, he'd known that before; he'd fooled himself into thinking it didn't matter.

But it did matter. He loved Abby, he knew that now. And he had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

Picking up his glass again, he realised it was empty and sighed heavily, letting it slip through his fingers and land on the bar with an audible 'clink'. The attentive bartender was there almost immediately.

"Can I get you another, sir?"

McGee looked up, jerked from his preoccupation. "Sorry?"

"Can I get you another drink, sir?"

He nodded absentmindedly. The bartender turned away to fill a glass with the same scotch he'd been drinking before. As he placed the glass down in front of McGee, suddenly the waiter's look of polite disinterest turned to recognition.

"Hey, I know where I've seen you before. You're Thom E. Gemcity, aren't you?"

McGee hesitated before answering; the last time he'd been asked that question by a stranger hadn't turned out so well. "That's me" he finally allowed, warily.

"I loved your books. So what brings you here this late? Writer's block?"

McGee shook his head slightly. "I wish it was that simple."

The bartender gave him an assessing look. "Girlfriend trouble?"

"How do you figure that?"

"Well, that's your Porsche parked out front, and unless I miss my guess, that's an Armani jacket you're wearing. So it can't be money problems. And in my experience, people who come in here this late at night have one or the other."

McGee took a closer look at the bartender. He couldn't have been more than 22 or 23 years old. Trying to change the subject, he asked "So do you work here full time?"

"No, I'm studying at Georgetown. Psych major."

That figured. Suddenly McGee was struck by how much of a cliché this was. Leaving his last drink untouched, he stood up and paid the bartender, then made his way towards the door, pulling out his phone to call for a cab as he did. As he reached the door, the young bartender called him back.

"You should talk to her."

He turned and looked back to the bar.

"Communication is essential in a relationship, you know."

McGee shook his head and opened the door, stepping out into the cold air. He'd collect his car in the morning. The cab was there quickly; he gave the cabbie his address, and then clambered into the backseat. The bartender's words echoed in his head. Maybe he was right. He and Abby hadn't talked about what happened that night, not really. She'd withdrawn, and he'd let her... and then they hadn't mentioned it again.

Before he could change his mind, he leant forward and gave the cabbie Abby's address instead.


	4. Chapter 4

It took her a few minutes to open the door. It was late; he worried about waking her. As the minutes passed, he started second guessing himself. Maybe this wasn't a good idea. It was late and he'd been drinking. Just as he'd talked himself into leaving, the door opened.

"McGee? What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in? We need to talk, Abby."

She looked for a moment like she was about to protest, but something in his expression must have changed her mind. She stepped back, letting him into her apartment.

Now that he was here, he didn't know how to start. They'd never talked about their relationship, not really. The closest they'd ever come was a twenty second conversation in her lab, the night after he'd read a poem that he'd written for her. He cringed inwardly at the memory. That conversation hadn't gone well.

She was watching him, uncharacteristically silent. It was slightly unnerving. The alcohol he'd consumed was playing with his mind, as if the words were skipping the step of being thought about before being spoken.

"Why are you so scared of having a real relationship, Abby?"

It wasn't what he'd intended to say; from the look on her face, she hadn't expected him to be quite so blunt either. It took her a moment to find her voice.

"You said... you said no strings."

"No, you said that" he pointed out.

"And you agreed, Tim."

"Because that's what you wanted!"

That made her pause. He could tell that she'd assumed that because he'd agreed, he wanted the same things she wanted. And that was his fault... he could have said something then, three weeks ago, instead of letting things get to this point.

More gently than he had before, he asked again.

"Why are you scared, Abs?"

"Strings can be pulled."

He thought that he'd never heard anything so sad in his life.

"Oh Abby, is that what it is? You're afraid of someone trying to control you?" He paused. "I'd never do that, Abs. Don't you know that?"

She nodded a little.

"I love you, Abby. And I just need to know...if there's any chance you could want a real relationship with me... strings and all."

...

He took her completely by surprise. How had she never realised that this was how Tim felt about her? Was she really that blind? Unwittingly she took a step back, shaking her head slightly.

She caught a glimpse of the devastation in his eyes as he turned away, muttering something inaudible as he walked out the door.

She unfroze after a moment, rushing outside to see if she could catch him. But she was too late. He was gone.

...

He saw her recoil, saw the denial in her eyes, and knew he had his answer. Abby didn't love him; distantly, he'd already known that. But having it confirmed... it hurt like hell. Unwilling to let her see how much he was hurting, he turned and reached for the doorknob. Mumbling an apology for barging in on her, he left her apartment as abruptly as he'd arrived, walking with quick strides to the outer door. There was a cab cruising slowly down the street in front of her building; he flagged it down, giving the cabbie his address.

He managed to control his emotions until he got upstairs to his apartment. Then he buried his face in Jethro's fur and cried.


	5. Chapter 5

There was an annoying noise coming from his bedside. Opening one eye, he fumbled around until he found the source of it. His phone. Squinting at the screen, he made out the caller ID. Gibbs. Great. An early morning call out was exactly what he didn't need right now. He answered the phone, listening as his boss told him where they were headed. The address was only a few blocks away from the bar he'd been at last night.

Moving slowly so he didn't jar his aching head, he made his way into the bathroom and stuck his head under the cold tap. He was going to be in serious trouble when Gibbs realised he was hung-over. His eyes felt like they were packed with sand. A quick look in the mirror told him they were red and slightly puffy. Not good.

And the dull ache he'd been carrying in his chest had intensified. He'd gotten almost used to it. And judging by the events of last night, he'd have to get used to it.

'Don't think about it' he commanded himself. Forcing himself to concentrate on work, he finished getting ready and called a cab. He had to pick up his car.

...

Abby paced in front of Ducky's desk. It was dark in Autopsy; Ducky and Palmer hadn't come in from the field yet.

The 'whoosh' of the automatic doors opening made her turn. Squinting in the sudden light, she saw Ducky enter the room and stop.

"Abigail? What are you doing down here in the dark?"

"Hey Duckman."

Even to her ears, her greeting came out sounding wrong.

"Is everything ok?"

"I'm fine, Ducky. I just- needed some place to think." She resumed her pacing. "It's just everything's- changed, and I don't really know how. I mean, I do, but I don't, and now he's really mad at me, and he's never mad at me, at least not for long, but I really think that-"

"Abby."

She turned and looked at the elderly ME.

"Who is mad at you?"

She was bewildered for a second- hadn't she explained that? - then thought over what she'd said.

"Oh. McGee."

"Why do you think Timothy is mad at you?"

"Because everything changed!"

"I see. I think, dear girl, that you had best start at the beginning." Ducky pulled the chair out from behind his desk and waved her into it.

Sitting down, with the sympathetic attention of Ducky, she began to feel a little calmer. She took a deep breath and organised her thoughts.

"A few weeks ago, McGee broke up with his girlfriend."

Ducky nodded. "Yes, it was common knowledge."

"Well, we- McGee and I- went out for a drink that night. Just to cheer him up. But something happened, and he ended up staying the night..." she trailed off, feeling herself flush.

"Ah."

"We said it was just a fling. Well, I said it, and he agreed." Feeling the agitation rise again, she got up and went back to pacing.

"I hurt him Ducky, I had no idea that I was doing it, but I was, and then last night I made it even worse. And now I have no idea what to do, he won't even speak to me and"

"Abby!"

Seeing that he had her attention, Ducky continued.

"What happened last night?"

"He came over in the middle of the night." Seeing Ducky's knowing look, she protested. "Ducky, no, it wasn't like that."

"I apologise. "

"He said- he said that he loves me." The words came out in a rush. She smiled; she couldn't help herself. While men had told her that before, she'd never believed them- it'd always been in the heat of the moment, or they'd been after something, or it just hadn't rung true. But McGee... McGee was different. "And he asked if we could start dating again."

"And?"

"And I shook my head... He took me by surprise, Ducky. He's my best friend. I didn't know that he felt like that. I can't believe I didn't see it. That's why I shook my head."

"Did you tell Timothy that?"

"I tried, Ducky. I went over there. He wouldn't let me in. I tried calling, text, email... He won't answer any of them."

"And what if he had?"

She gave him a blank look.

"If he had answered, what would you have said?"

She opened her mouth to reply, then closed it again. Ducky patted her gently on the shoulder.

"I would figure that out first, Abigail."

The automatic doors 'whooshed' open again, admitting Palmer wheeling a loaded gurney. With murmured thanks to Ducky, and a wave to Palmer, Abby made her way up to her lab. Ducky was right. She really needed to figure out exactly what to say to Timmy before she made matters worse than she already had.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This is addressed to the Guest that left me a decidedly nasty review. I rarely delete reviews as everyone is entitled to their opinion. But as this one amounted to a personal attack, I removed it. As you pointed out, yes, my grammar in parts of the previous chapter is terrible. Intentionally. It was the best way I could think of to get across the chaos of Abby's thoughts when she's upset. That part of your review was fine. The rest... Well, that's why it got deleted. I would've sent this to you via the private message function of the site, but you weren't logged in. **

**Hope everyone else had a safe and happy Easter. F. **

As he'd discovered in the previous few weeks, not thinking about it was something easier said than done. Between the hangover- the Tylenol he'd taken before leaving his apartment hadn't done anything worthwhile- and his mind's insistence on replaying every detail of last night's visit to Abby, he really wasn't at the top of his game. By the time they'd left the crime scene, he'd already been on the receiving end of two head slaps- neither of which had helped matters any.

Upon arriving at the Yard, he found that Tony and Ziva had left him with the task of taking the evidence crates up to Abby. Normally he liked doing it; it gave him a chance to talk to her before getting back to work on whatever case they'd landed. Today, however, the last thing he wanted to do was visit the lab.

Consequently, by the time he walked into the lab carrying the crates, he was in a foul mood. He set the crates down on the stainless steel table she'd cleared for them and looked up to find her eyeing him nervously. Wordlessly, he held out the clipboard he was holding for her to sign the chain of evidence forms. She took it and scribbled her signature on the pages. He mumbled his thanks, expecting her to shoo him out and get started on the evidence. Instead, she hovered anxiously next to the table. He glanced at her.

"Are you ok, Timmy?"

"I'm fine."

"McGee, you look awful. You are not fine."

He sighed in exasperation. "Well, what did you expect, Abs? Last night I told you that I love you and you..." Words failed him. "I can't do this now", he told her. "I've gotta get upstairs."

He strode out, leaving her standing alone in the lab.

...

"Psst. Psst, Probie."

McGee looked around, wincing inwardly. The hangover really wasn't letting up. "What do you want, Tony?"

"What's wrong with you, McCranky?"  
>"I don't want to talk about it."<p>

"Oh really? Cause you look like hell, McGee. Not like you to go out and have fun. Did you forget it was a school night?"

"Look, Tony, I need to get this done. Gibbs is already pissed with me and I really don't need crap from you today."

"Okay, okay."

To his relief, DiNozzo backed off.

A few minutes later, McGee looked up at the sound of DiNozzo clearing his throat. In his hand he held a glass of a noxious looking mixture.

"What's this?"  
>"DiNozzo Defibrillator. "<p>

McGee eyed the glass suspiciously. "Why are you being nice to me?"

Tony looked around, making sure there was no one within earshot. "Because, Tim, I've seen that look before. Actually, I've worn that look before, after-" he cut himself off and checked over his shoulder again. "After Jeanne."

"What look?"

"Oh come on, Probie. The look that says some girl's got your number, but something happened and there's no happy ending."

DiNozzo went back to his desk.

"So who is it, anyway? That redhead you were dating? Because I warned you about her."

"Listen to him, McGee. Nothing but trouble."

"Boss. Background check on our dead petty officer came up clean, except for one DUI 6 years ago."

"McGee. Financial records." Gibbs turned just as McGee took a sip of the concoction DiNozzo had given him and made a face. "McGee. What the hell are you drinking?"

McGee glanced at Tony, who gave him a look. "Ahh... Protein shake, Boss."

"Uh huh." Gibbs sounded disbelieving. "Financial records."

"Still working on them, Boss."

Gibbs nodded. "Tony, talk to his CO. Take Ziva with you. McGee!"

He leant both fists on McGee's desk. "If you ever turn up to work with a hangover again, I will make you wish you'd never been born. Is that clear, McGee?"

McGee nodded. "Clear, Boss."

...

After McGee left, Abby tried to concentrate on the evidence he'd brought her. But the way he'd looked was haunting her a little. She knew full well that he was hung over, though how badly she wasn't sure. She'd been able to tell that he'd been drinking last night, which was unusual for McGee. The odd social drink, sure, but not like last night.

Even accounting for the hangover, he looked haggard. She squirmed a little, knowing that it was her fault. She hadn't known how he felt, sure, but that didn't make it any better. She should've known. She'd rejected him twice... three times if she counted their breakup when McGee first joined Gibbs' team. That alone should've made her realise how much he cared for her.

And she cared for him. The melancholia that she'd felt since their night together, the constant jealousy when he found someone new, the worry when he put himself in dangerous situations, it all proved that. The question was, how much?


	7. Chapter 7

A week passed.

With each day, McGee came to regret taking the gamble of telling Abby how he felt more and more. The nature of his specialist skills that made him a valuable member of the team meant that he spent much of his time working with Abby. He used to enjoy it, used to welcome it. But that was before. Now he was acutely aware of her presence, and their previously companionable work relationship was strained and awkward. He was conscious of the little odd side glances she kept shooting in his direction too. She'd do it when she thought he wasn't looking, and it was always with the same speculative expression, like she was trying to figure something out.

All in all, it was a relief when the weekend arrived; they didn't even have call out duty. He was determined to spend the time alone, only answering his door or his phone if it was absolutely necessary. At least that way he would only have the ever- persistent thoughts and dreams of Abby to torment him, and not the woman herself.

...

This, Abby decided, had been the most painful week of her life.

As Fate would have it, the case they'd landed this week had required a lot of tricky computer forensic investigation. Which meant that McGee had spent the majority of the week in her lab. There really wasn't a way around it; it had needed both of them to solve the multiple computer issues that had come out of the woodwork on this one.

She'd really wanted a quiet, easy week- as far as possible in her job- so that she could figure out what to do about McGee's revelation. Instead, she'd gotten a week of awkwardness and tension. To give him credit, McGee hadn't been sullen or mopey. He'd been distant instead, but she could see how unhappy he was. It tore at her heart. And it was worse knowing that she'd caused his pain.

She still hadn't spoken to him about that night. It had become the proverbial elephant in the room, but she was determined not to bring it up until she knew what she was going to tell him. She was still trying to figure that one out.

Reaching home, she turned the ringer down on her landline, set her cell to 'vibrate' and settled herself on the couch. She needed to be alone to sort things out in her own head.

She cared for McGee, and in a way she'd never cared for anyone else. But was that enough? Especially when she knew he loved her? The first time he'd told her could've been dismissed as the alcohol talking, but she knew it was true. She saw it in his eyes every time he looked at her.

Even if it was enough to start a relationship with him, was that really what she wanted? Relationships were scary, and messy, and confining. What if she made him realise he'd misunderstood her, and they started... something... and her feelings never went beyond caring? What then? She'd wind up breaking his heart.

She turned the problem over and over in her head, barely noticing the hours passing until a faint grey light began to filter into her apartment. Realising that dawn was breaking, she slowly got up from her now cramped position and went to bed.

...

When she awoke late on Saturday morning, she felt calmer. A few things had become clearer while she slept.

McGee loved her. She knew he would never try to control her. She'd admitted that to him that night. And she owed him an explanation.

She got out of her coffin and got dressed. While she had no idea where it would lead, she needed to see Tim.

...

McGee ignored the knocking at first, hoping that whoever was on his doorstep would get the point and leave. Instead, the knocking got louder and more insistent. Jethro went over and started scratching at the closed door, giving a little yip. Inwardly he sighed. There was no way his visitor hadn't heard that.

"McGee, open up. I know you're in there..."

Abby. Great. Reluctantly he opened the door, torn between wanting to see her and wanting her to just leave him alone.

"What do you want, Abby?"

She barged past him. "We need to talk, McGee."

He closed the door behind her, taking his time so he had a moment to organise his thoughts. He turned and leant against it, unwilling to get too close. She was standing in the middle of his living room, watching him. Suddenly acutely aware that he wasn't wearing a shirt, he crossed his arms over his chest, wishing he'd grabbed one on his way out of the shower.

"You want to talk, so talk" he told her.

She took a deep breath. "When you came to my apartment last week and told me-told me that you love me-"

He interrupted her. "I remember." As much as he tried to control it, he heard the pain come out in his voice and saw her eyes widen.

"I'm-I'm sorry, McGee. But you never gave me a chance to respond-"

He cut her off again. "You responded, Abby. Maybe not in words, but I got the message loud and clear." It came out ragged and harsh. God, where was his self control? Now, when he needed it most?

"I hurt you. I know that. But you got the wrong message, McGee."

His heart skipped a beat at her words. Was it possible that he'd gotten it wrong? He raised one shaky hand and rubbed at his forehead. "But- you shook your head-"

It was her turn to interrupt. "Because you took me by surprise, Tim." She took one step closer to him. "We'd had one night together, 3 weeks earlier. Just one night. And then you were on my doorstep telling me- telling me that you love me. How else was I supposed to react?"

She was moving ever closer to him as she spoke. Finally she stopped at arm's reach. He could feel his heart pounding. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, gentler. "I shook my head because I couldn't believe I hadn't seen how you felt before then, Tim. Not because I don't care."


	8. Chapter 8

**A:N/ This is the last chapter, guys! This story ended up longer than I anticipated. Thank you all who are still reading for your patience. Hope you enjoyed it. F.**

**Thanks, as always, to Trina109.**

He stared at her for a moment, half expecting her to continue.

"Abby, if you add anything like 'you're my best friend'..." His voice was shaking as much as his hands.

She shook her head. "Not this time, Tim. I don't know if-if I love you the same way you love me, but-"

He cut her off. "It doesn't matter. What matters is... Abby, what do you want?" He held his breath, hoping that this time her answer would be the one he wanted.

"I don't know!" she almost wailed.

Hurt and suddenly angry, he replied "Damn it Abby, this isn't a game! Do you think it cost me nothing to tell you how I feel? I've never told anyone I love them before, and what did I get? A week full of strange looks and awkwardness! It's a simple question. I'm not asking for a lifetime commitment, Abby. All I'm asking for is a chance. So what is it that you want?"

"I want to be with you, Tim, but I'm scared! What if this doesn't work out? What if I never feel the same way about you? What if we wind up hating each other?"

As suddenly as it flared, his anger drained away. He took half a step closer to her. "I'll take my chances, Abs. If something goes wrong, we'll work through it."

"I'm not good at the whole relationship thing, Timmy" she warned.

He snorted softly, moving again. "Abby, I haven't had a real relationship in my entire life." She was so close now. He could smell the faint gunpowdery scent she'd made. "We want to be together, Abby. Isn't that worth a little risk?"

She nodded, her big green eyes fixed on his face. He took the last half step between them, reaching out to lightly stroke her cheek.

"Timmy..."

He smiled a little, dipping his head to kiss her gently. She pushed forward, deepening the kiss. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, revelling in the feel of her held tight against his bare chest.

He was afraid to open his eyes, afraid that this was a dream and Abby wasn't really there in his arms, kissing him like she'd never let him go.

A faint voice in the back of his mind sounded a warning. Reluctantly he broke the kiss, letting go of Abby and stepping back slightly.

"Tim? What's wrong?" She was breathing heavily and her voice sounded dazed.

"Nothing. Just- there are limits to my self control, Abs" he told her shakily.

She took half a step closer, pressing up against him. He bit back a groan

"Do you want to stop?" she asked him huskily.

He shook his head slightly. "God, no."

"Then don't." Reaching up to pull his head down, she kissed him hungrily.

...

Long after McGee had drifted off to sleep, Abby lay awake. Hearing Jethro whining to himself in the bathroom, she tiptoed out of the bedroom, letting the dog out and getting herself a glass of water from the tiny kitchen.

She stood for a long moment in the doorway to the bedroom, watching Tim sleep. She hadn't really intended for this to happen, but somehow seeing him again outside of work... It had brought home how much she needed him. Moving quietly so she didn't wake Tim, she slid back into the bed and snuggled up to him. She grinned when he looped one arm around her waist and murmured her name, absurdly pleased that he dreamt about her.

Closing her eyes, she let herself relax into his embrace.

Actually, she was pretty sure she loved him.


End file.
